Opening the door onto Gary Webb’s exhibition “Deep Heat T-Reg Laguna,” one hesitated a moment in the face of its profusion of intense colors and unidentifiable forms. But once this fleeting moment of surprise passed, one discovered eight large sculptures, all reflected in, and fragmented and multiplied by, a wall covered in mirrored rectangles tilted in different directions. Gradually, the sculptures revealed themselves in their incredible strangeness. Mr. Miami, 2004, for example, is composed of a large curve of yellow metal placed on a shiny black form, from which slender stems rise bearing

The Holy Land is much like Passaic, New Jersey—“a kind of self-destroying postcard world of failed immortality and oppressive grandeur,” as Robert Smithson put it; not so much holy as hole-y, comprised of “monumental vacancies that define, without trying, the memory-traces of an abandoned set of futures.” The Israeli government, as is well known, has been trying to shore up its nation’s dangerously porous ontology by erecting a vast wall isolating it from the Palestinian territories. Adhering to the best tenets of Minimalist aesthetics, this wall encapsulates a dense knot of possibly contradictory